


Forgive Me

by OverwatchingYouSleep



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blasphemy, Cannibalism, Demon Sex, Demons, F/M, Mild Gore, Priest Kink, Religious Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 02:54:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11842482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverwatchingYouSleep/pseuds/OverwatchingYouSleep
Summary: "So can I get Demon disguised as a Priest Reaper w/ dfab s/o. Where you’re on either side of a confessional booth and you confess having impure thoughts about him. He then decides to help "relieve" them of their sin :) - G"Now I absolutely meant for this request to get longerEDIT: For some reason all the tags this came with didn't save so uh, forgive me on that one.





	Forgive Me

**Author's Note:**

> Me and my co-author do more requests and stuff on @overwatching-you-sleep.tumblr.com

“Father?”

Reaper paused mid-chew, glancing over at the latticed partition that separated priest from peon. The service had ended hours ago, all the easier for Reaper to swoop in after the last confessors departure and make a swift meal of the church’s priest. Nobody was supposed to be coming in for the rest of the day. Hadn’t you got the memo?

“…Yes?” Reaper responded, swallowing the blood and meat in his mouth. You audibly sighed, sounding both relieved and terrified. He saw your head drop, nothing more than a faint silhouette against the thin curtain.

“Father, forgive me, for I have sinned.” The tips of Reaper’s ears began to burn, but it wasn’t from embarrassment. He looked down at the body in his lap, torn face frozen in horror, and down at the tattered robes the man wore.

…He could play this game.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, a curious smile cracking the thin layer of blood that caught his entire lower face. “Confess your sins to me, child.”

You hesitated, even in anonymity. The longer you fiddled with your hands–God, he could even smell your sweat through the divide–the more interested he became in your confession. Especially when your aroma held strong hints of arousal.

“I-I’ve become–succumbed to the sin of…lust.” Reaper raised his finger to his mouth curiously, taking a quick taste of the preachers blood while he was at it. “I-I’ve been having thoughts…of one of the members of your lovely church.”

Reaper sat back in his seat, his full attention focused on your shaking form against the impenetrable curtain. His eyes flicked back down to the priest, whose face was mostly ruined to the point of unrecognizable. Not very many members of the church to have crushes on now, were there?

“Fear not, my child,” Reaper said, waving his hand in front of him as though bestowing wisdom. “You have let sin into your thoughts, but rather than feeding into it, you have confessed it to me, to relieve yourself of it. You have shown great humiliation.”

You tilted your head. “Wow…how awfully…I mean, uh, how forgiving of you to say, Father. Are you new?”

He froze.

“Sorry, that’s an odd question.” You shuffled nervously in your booth. “I’m just in this confessional often; I can recognize Father Patrick’s voice anywhere.”

Reaper glanced down at the cadaver in his arms. Around his neck, his silver cross hung like a noose, near-hidden behind the man’s auburn beard.

“…I am,” he finally said. He snapped the string that held the crucifix, holding it up to capture the thin ray of light shining through the sliver of the curtain. In the polished surface he could nearly see his cracked and dead skin peel away into something that resembled his once-human form. Red eyes simmered to warm brown, and his cloak fizzled into clean pastor robes. Maybe handsome, at least in human terms. “I am Father Gabriel.”

Again, that wave of flustered arousal. “Thank you, Father Gabriel.” 

He placed the crucifix on the body’s chest, lowering both without much dignity to the deceased man. The more you spoke, the more curious he was to know who he was dealing with, and his curiosity rarely went unsated. Assuring the cadaver was at least hidden from outside sight, he dissolved into mist and went to peek.

The curtain barely shifted with his invisible presence, maneuvering around to take in your distressed face, picking at your fingernails and praying beneath your breath. He could smell your lust from beneath your dress, as obvious as the sweat on your forehead.

Oh, you poor thing. If only God could save you now, huh?

He retreated from your side of the confessional, but chose to materialize outside of it instead of back in the priest’s booth. Father Patrick was hidden well behind the curtain, and he wouldn’t have to worry about keeping him stashed away for too long. No, this would be quick.

The sound of the curtains being pulled to the side made you jump, and you only partially relaxed when you saw it was the pastor, this new one, and he didn’t look nearly as angry as you would have expected. How silently had he moved? Why did the air feel so much warmer when he entered?

“Tell me what you’ve thought,” he asked, pulling himself into your side of the confessional. You were too surprised to resist when he guided you around him, maneuvering until you were seated in his lap. “All of it.”

Up close, you were able to get a good look at the new priest. His face was kind enough, well-trimmed and with a homely smile. He was incredibly handsome. Why had you not seen him around town before?

“Tell me.” His voice snapped you out of your reverie, his hand brushing over your stomach. “Rid yourself of these thoughts.”

“I-I, um.” It felt like he was borderline torturing you, the physical strain it was taking to bring words to your lips. “I thought of maybe, um, taking him home after service one day…and…um. Taking him to my bed and, um. Making love to him.”

Boring. But then again, what was he expecting? You to confess your every kink to your own preacher? You were probably smarter than that. He sneered and grabbed your hips, bringing you closer on his lap.

“With a member of the church?” The disbelief in his voice was barely heard over his interest in your shuddering breath, the distinct shade of pink across your cheeks. “Sinful, indeed. You shouldn’t entertain such immoral thoughts of someone who does not reciprocate.”

“But–”

“Fortunately,” he cut you off, fingers tilting your chin up, “you confessed those sins to me.”

You weren’t sure, maybe it was how the light flickered in the booth from the swaying curtain, but you almost thought you saw his eyes pulse red before he kissed you. It was nothing approximating chaste or appropriate, and you swore you tasted copper on his tongue and teeth. Pressing together your thighs did nothing to stop his hand from traveling up your Sunday dress with purpose. Your heart felt ready to explode out of your chest.

His lips broke off yours, pressed on your neck instead. “Consider yourself lucky. You won’t ever find a more forgiving priest than me.”

In the back of your mind somewhere, you felt violated. But this was your fantasy–a deep perversion you’d entertained for the better part of a year–and this handsome man was fulfilling it. You weren’t going to pass on such an opportunity.

Besides, you were almost half convinced this was a self-serving dream

He grabbed the zipper on the back of your dress and dragged it down your back, letting the fabric fall around your front and off of your shoulders. Your bra went next, unclasped with a precise motion that seemed like unfit knowledge for a priest to have. You were turned quickly and seated with your back to him, dress pushed down your arms and off your body.

Both of his hands slid to your front, where your breasts responded to his touch eagerly. He groaned and rolled his hips, slowly stiffening member straining through his priest outfit and against your ass. You squirmed, your rising embarrassment making you want to pull away and escape, but Gabriel’s grip stayed strong on your chest.

“Don’t run,” he whispered. “Not from your repentance.”

You felt so impossibly small in his lap, this man who was supposed to be a paragon for virtue punishing you in this way. Not to complain–you liked it. He knew how to treat you, and this was an honest fulfillment of your fantasies. There was just something about the whole thing that made you feel uneasy, like the incredible level of skill with which he handled your body, fingers grazing you in all the right places.

“Father,” you moaned, and Reaper’s human smile quirked in a grin. He was dragging a good religious soul down to hell, and the taste of corruption on his tongue was delicious. It poked out from between his lips and ran along your neck, just over the quickly-darkening hickey.

“Repent,” he urged, grabbing onto your hair and pulling your head back. “Beg God for his forgiveness.”

“Please, God, forgive me!” You never thought the words would arouse you, especially in a church. You were probably committing 10 extra levels of blasphemy right now, when you thought merely having thoughts was horrid. Dreams like this landed you in boiling pits of lava.

“You’re going to have to beg a lot harder than that,” Gabriel informed you, ducking his head to lick the shell of your ear. Your breath escaped in a sharp sigh.

“I-I have sinned. I’m lustful. I must be punished.” Gabriel growled in your ear, a feral noise that sent vibrations throughout your nervous system. His fingers crawled down your front and in between your legs, middle finger quickly finding your clit.

“And what sin have you fell to?” His voice was low, barely audible, but your senses were on hyper alert, every syllable making your tongue tingle in your mouth.

“Lust,” you moaned. His grip on your hair tightened and he began to twirl his finger over your clit, a soft pressure that slowly grew in intensity.

“What was that?” he asked. Your spring was getting coiled tighter and tighter, his finger quickly and efficiently bringing you closer to your edge.

“Lust!” you cried. Your head was pulled back further, and he was looking down in your eyes, a very unchaste smile spread across his face.

“Once more for me.” You were so close. You teetered on the edge of orgasm, and with only a second more of grinding against his finger, you came with a shout to his question.

“LUS-MMPH!” Your eyes snapped open, shocked wide by the feeling of a huge, writhing mass being shoved down your throat. This mass turned out to be Gabriel’s tongue, a black fleshy thing that was certainly more monster than human, ripping through his mouth and cheeks and pushing itself as deep down our throat as he could muster. You were so caught in your orgasmic haze, you couldn’t even parse what was happening.

You twitched helplessly in his lap as Gabriel violated you with his massive tongue, pulling out with a distinct pop that left you gasping for breath while he retracted the organ back into his mouth, revealing the rest of his equally monstrous face. He hadn’t looked anything like this a second ago.

“That was fun,” he said to your helpless body, your eyes rolled back in your head in a mixture of unfathomable horror and utmost bliss. “Oh, and good luck getting God’s forgiveness for that one.”


End file.
